Then, slowly, over the course of a decade, “pop and pop” neighborhood anchors like the Priape sex shop gave way to tacky “breeder” franchises, like fake British pubs and pizza joints. Perversely, the Second Cup demolished its famous “steps,” which had long served as the Ghetto’s 24/7 public square.
The Village took on the grim, grimy atmosphere of an off-season amusement park.
If you’re thinking “AIDS,” think again. I would have predicted the same cause once upon a time, as the 1990s saw more and more skeletal figures shuffling along the sidewalks, until they became names inscribed on the memorial in the same notorious park where the living still stubbornly cruised for sex and drugs.
But gay and straight observers alike agree: it wasn’t low T-cells but low interest rates that emptied out the Ghetto.
Steve Sailer writes:
One of the less vituperative denunciations by the many reviewers who likely hadn’t actually read the book was by “civil rights lawyer, Barack Obama.”
Of course, the irony is that Obama’s fabulous career epitomizes the prime subject of The Bell Curve: the rise of a “cognitive elite” facilitated by standardized testing. (…)
Indeed, until he was rescued by the Law School Admission Test, Obama had been floundering—encouraging recycling, copyediting a business newsletter he despised, failing to organize a public housing project community. Then, around 1987, he apparently scored high on the heavily g-loaded LSAT.
According to a clever 2012 analysis by Alan R. Lockwood, Obama likely scored in the 94th to 98th percentile range. This, combined with Obama’s black privilege and Harvard legacy status (Barack Obama Sr., M.A. ’65), allowed him the luxury of applying to only the top three law schools, Harvard, Yale, and Stanford, with no need for a safety school.
Once at Harvard, Obama was instantly recognized as one of the few black students who were on the same cognitive level as the students who got in without affirmative action.
Nicks, now 66 and with a new album out, has never had children.
At least from the sound of it, she has long been haunted by her decision to abort.
The wistful song’s cryptic lyrics certainly evoke sorrow and regret.
I don’t pretend to know anything about Stevie Nicks’ politics based on a song and an interview, though.
The last thing anyone should do right now is hold her up as some kind of simplistic pro-life object lesson.
Her story and her sadness speaks for itself, whatever she may think about “choice”:
That Nicks still seems troubled by her abortion puts the lie to the oft-heard feminist insistence that the procedure isn’t any more morally freighted than having a rotten tooth pulled, or even that abortion is something to be celebrated.
‘A black female friend and I once discussed how our historically unemployed (lazy) relatives often claimed that we were rich simply because we had things that they did not’
Actual black woman Patricia L. Dickson pens an EPIC MUST-READ:
A female relative of mine came to live with me for a short time. One day when I came home from work, she asked me where everyone in the neighborhood was. She said that during the day, she would go outdoors looking for someone to talk to and no one was around.
I told her that they were at work, and I asked her how she thought the neighbors could pay for their homes if they did not go to work (just as I was going to work every day). She looked at me with a confused look on her face.
Up until that point (she was nearly sixty years old), she had lived in neighborhoods where everyone (including her) received some kind of government check and therefore did not work. She always had someone to shuck and jive with because everyone was at home all day long. She told me that she was bored living in my (middleclass working) neighborhood.
‘116 People, Mostly Whites, Have Been Killed By 18 Black ‘Disgruntled Employees’ In The Last 40 Years’
Says James Fulford.
Laura Rosen Cohen writes:
I think that’s why a lot of women “of a certain age” wear such cheesy, horrible outfits, and clothes that are way too sluttish and old for them-or puff up their hair, and wear those gawdawful Fifty Shades of Grey Shoes that they can afford but should never, ever EVER wear.
They really are so desperate for male attention.
They know that they are not going to get the natural attention that young women, in full bloom, are going to receive. So, they wear sparkly things, shiny things, short things, long nails-it’s a real (albeit) pathetic cry for attention.
…occurred when “Russia’s ruling ‘socialist workers party,’ the Communists, established themselves as the polar opposites of their two socialist clones, the National Socialist German Workers Party (quicknamed ‘The Nazis’) and Italy’s Marxist-inspired Fascisti, by branding both as ‘the fascists,’” which quickly led to those two socialist clones as being described, per Stalin’s orders, as “right wing” for the rest of the 20th century with very little in the way of effective pushback from limited-government conservatives and libertarians until recent years.
The Democrats’ ongoing efforts to offload their shameful racist past onto the GOP has to run a close second.
Don’t let them get away with it.
Michael Coren gives me reason #2,085:
I had a less than pleasant conversation last week with a Roman Catholic priest from the Archdiocese of Toronto who had written a letter to a newspaper rejecting my views on some of the intolerant teachings of Islam. He thought I was far too harsh in my criticisms of the Muslim treatment of Christians. Of course, dialogue is never encouraging when it begins with “Now, listen to me.”
But things did become more fun, at least for me, when the fellow explained that “Of course I condemn what CSIS does.” I interjected that perhaps he meant ISIS. He wasn’t in a listening mood but did eventually concede that he was referring to the Islamic State in Iraq and Syria rather than the Canadian Security Intelligence Service.
After some rather fierce exchanges, he insisted to me, “You must remember that Christians kill Muslims too.” I asked when. “The Crusades” was his reply. But, I insisted, that was in the 12th and 13th centuries and was brutal, but was a reaction to Islamic violence and both sides were wrong. Totally different from centuries of Islamic persecution of Christians and other minorities, I continued, and the modern terrorism of the jihadists. It was, however, a largely pointless exercise.
So those are my last remaining Chucks.
They are about half my age.
I had a used black pair in high school and got the blue ones when those died.
I also had a pair of all black high tops for a long time but they too disintegrated.
I thought I’d replace these with a pair of the new water resistant Polartec models:
But ha ha because you could only get them in Canada via Livestock.
Two weeks after they were launched, I’m told by Livestock that they’re out of them and have no plan to restock.
I can’t order them directly from Converse.com because look:
No doubt some of you are thinking:
“Kathy, why don’t you just finally stop wearing cliche-cartoon-character-teenager shoes anyhow? You look like an idiot.”
So now I have to decide between black and blue, and I can’t even get those from Livestock because they’re out of my size.
But they don’t have blue even if I want it.
Hey, look: Every colour but blue here.
I still resent the hell out of Converse right now, but not enough to stop buying their crap.
OK it looks like I can choose between blue and black (and more here) and I got a 10% off coupon code for visiting the site.
Today, a cardigan and desert boots says, “I don’t want any trouble.” Fred Perry can look tough and scary if you’re young and skinny but half the time I wear one I see a guy in a Best Buy uniform who stuck a laurel over his name tag. This look is no longer for me. So where do I go?
All the same, she is the kind of reflexive Tory who’d rather die than admit to luck having played its part in her life. When I ask if she sometimes has to pinch herself (in addition to this place and St Tropez, she has an enviable 18th-century house up the road, as well as homes in Miami and New York), she shakes her head. “I worked for it, didn’t I? I recognised opportunities and I took them; I wasn’t afraid and I took risks.”